


Lords of The Underground

by BabadookBabe



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Background Thorin/Bilbo - Freeform, Bisexual Character, Black Character(s), Character(s) of Color, Dead Parents, Eventual Romance, Eventual triad relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Character, Gen, Goths, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Prejudices, LGBTQ Character of Color, M/M, Mentally Ill Characters, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pansexual Character, Past Abuse, Past Aragorn/Arwen, Past Kili/Tauriel, Polyamorous Character, Requited Unrequited Love, arwen and tauriel and eowyn are all goth af, arwen is a traditional/romantic goth, background Gimli/Legolas, eowyn is a very post punk/80's traditional goth, fight me, i am putting my gay hands all over Tolkien's work, lots of Siouxsie Sioux, past eowyn/faramir, same fantasy names in a modern setting, tauriel is a pagan/viking goth, tauriel's pronouns are they/them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-03 09:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabadookBabe/pseuds/BabadookBabe
Summary: Mirkwood was a great town, it really was. There were lots of wooded areas, the residents liked to party a lot….and there was a disproportionate amount of reported spider infestations in the residencies. Not that Arwen minded, she loved spiders...*Modern AU where our main characters are all piney goths and everyone else is amused*





	1. Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic on ao3 ever, and it all started with post punk 80's love songs and a fierce love for these characters! I have not written in years, so we'll see how this all goes. If there are any additional tags needed please let me know, the rating may be subject to change.

Mirkwood was a great town, it really was. There were lots of wooded areas, the residents liked to party a lot….and there was a disproportionate amount of reported spider infestations in the residencies. Not that Arwen minded, she loved spiders.

The unfriendly stares and glowers however? She could definitely do without. Not that she wasn’t used to them, but here it was almost _malicious_. A decent town, but a shadow seemed to hang over it at times. And it wasn’t just the constantly overcast weather (always a point in Arwen’s book).

A definite plus side was the town’s close proximity to the city of Erebor, where one could find more than one activity to get up to. As much as Mirkwood’s residents liked to party and immerse themselves in the bar scene, they didn’t have many noteworthy clubs to go to. _Especially_ her type of clubs.

Even better than the city of Erebor, but much farther away, was Gondor. When Arwen had lived in her hometown of Rivendell, or Imladris as the residents liked to call it, she’d make the trip up there for a few days to explore the night life and attend the regular hole-in-the-wall goth clubs. Large cities were easy to get lost in, and no one really cared what you looked like.

Elladan and Elrohir, her identical twin brothers, had moved out of Rivendell a while back to Gondor and had been more than happy to host their younger sister. The two metalheads, who could frequently be seen rocking corpse paint and long black hair, had been the first to introduce the then “baby bat” Arwen to the scene. Much to the unhappiness of Elrond, their father, who had always hoped Arwen wouldn’t be influenced by her older brothers’ lifestyles.

Arwen always chuckled at the memory of her first visit to Gondor with her brothers, wide eyed and nineteen, she’d attended her first goth club. Well, first club at all really. It was friendly to all ages above eighteen, but the large sharpie X’s on someone’s hands made sure you weren’t being served alcohol. Her brothers of course had kept a very close watch on her, being as protective as they were. That didn’t bar them of course to getting up to their usual mischief and shenanigans.

She’d worn the only black clothes she’d had at the time, Elladan teasing her hair and Elrohir providing the corpse paint. Her brothers had stepped back and grinned their signature “this is going to make father so mad” grins, causing her to be immediately disapproving. When she’d looked in the mirror Arwen hadn’t been sure at all of that style, but at the time she hadn’t known anything about the darker subcultures or anything to do with them outside her brothers, who’d been at it since they were teens.

Something about the pale-faced and dark eyed creature looking back at her, hair like a bat’s nest on her head, had sent a thrill through her. But she’d never tell them that.  The grins had only gotten wider, eliciting a scowl from her.

That night as her brothers explained, was dedicated to the 80’s post-punk and darkwave scene (whatever that had meant). With a cover band playing music from various bands such as Bauhaus, The Cure, Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees, along with others that Arwen had never head of. The club had been filled to the brim with people sporting hairstyles called “deathhawks” and dark makeup, and it had decidedly been the weirdest thing Arwen had ever seen.

 And also the best, as she soon realized. She’d always interested in the more macabre and Romantic styles, mostly in literature and movies, but she’d never realized there were whole styles, subcultures, and even music surrounding those themes. Her fathers disdain of her brothers’ styles and tastes had always influenced her as well, so she’d stayed the way she she’d always been-the good girl, never rebelling and never stirring the pot. 

In a way she’d resented her brothers for doing what they wanted and being who they were, because it meant responsibility and propriety had always fallen to her. Along with all of her father’s high expectations. Not that someone’s style had anything to do with their level of responsibility, but her brothers had always been trouble makers and free spirits. Her father loved them all fiercely, but his understanding and patience only went so far.

That pulled a frown from her as she paused in sipping her coffee, her thoughts temporarily being pulled back to the present. Black stiletto nails tapped the side of her cup, red eyes (usually gray, but that’s the fun of contacts) staring intensely at the sugar and cream-free substance within.

“I’d ask if you needed more coffee, but your expression suggests that it doesn’t have long to live!” A cheerful voice interjected.

Glancing up, Arwen’s expression relaxed at the sight of her favorite café resident, Bilbo. The shorter man sported sandy curls, warm brown eyes, and tattoos from the neck down (from what she could see that is). He was the main barista, and when it was slow would often wander out from behind the bar to chat.

Letting out a soft chuckle, she placed her cup down and smiled at him. “Sorry Bilbo, I hope I’m not scaring customers off with my glowering. And more coffee is never a bad thing, no matter how much it’s somehow offended me.”

His eyes crinkling at the corners, he let out a warm laugh that never failed to cheer those around him. Biblo’s changes in facial expressions also made his many piercings move in what Arwen decided was an adorable way. “Hmm, no need to be sorry. If anyone’s scared off it’ll be by the music my boss makes me play here,” he groused. Well known to the employees was the café’ owner, Gandalf’s, love for repetitive folk-pop that he said the “hipster youth that frequented cafés” loved so much.

Grinning at his ire, Arwen finished the last of her coffee in a gulp. Bilbo hurried to fill it, and it was only until now she noticed the coffee pot in his hand. “You’re too kind, but I doubt the other customers are less a fan of a music then they are of the red-eyed, all-black wearing creature with bats nest hair currently sitting in the booth next to the window.” She meant it jokingly, but there was a residual undercurrent of apology in her tone. Still couldn’t quite get rid of that.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but his gaze had softened. “If they’re that offended by one of the nicest and most interesting customers I’ve ever had, they can sod off to The Green Dragon. Lobelia will be glad for the customers, and I’m sure it’ll warm her cold dead heart by at least a fraction. And besides that, they tolerate the inked up, piercing laden creature currently talking to said red-eyed creature. So from creature to creature, don’t worry about it.” He winked, and Arwen again remembered why everyone couldn’t help but love the guy.

Arwen smiled softly, glancing away a little guiltily. Bilbo’s steadfast acceptance of her had been unwavering since the first moment she’d walked into the little café, and it had always meant the world to her. She’d always felt bad, worrying that her presence in the café would disturb the other customers and mess with business, but Bilbo never seemed to care (despite the glowers of the residents at both Bilbo and her).

Before she could thank him, the chime of the door sounded, indicating the arrival of people. Arwen blinked and glanced back at Bilbo, but he was already heading back to the bar, one last warm smile aimed her way as he went. Bilbo had a way with people, even if he didn’t know it. He would always manage to make you smile, and say the exact right thing without even realizing it.

Sighing at the loss of his presence, Arwen glanced at the new arrivals, whose backs were turned to her as they ordered at the bar. Her interest was immediately piqued at the newcomers, whose appearances would stand out in any crowd.

From what she could see, the one on the right was tall and slim, their skin a russet reddish brown. They had teased flaming red hair in intricate braids down their back, almost to their waist! The sides of their head were shaved as well from what she could see, what looked like tattoos sported on the bare skin. They were dressed in what looked like a skirt of various fabrics in differing shades of deep greens, their top laced up on all sides with bell sleeves. Scarves and leather belts adorned their waist, and everything about their style that Arwen could see was fascinating.

The other being, still with their back turned to her, was smaller and broad shouldered with light blonde hair. This stranger had both sides of their head shaved, with only two strips of hair left by their ears that were dyed black. White foundation coated the shaved sides of their head, and Arwen could only assume their face as well. The rest of it was styled up into a magnificent straight-to-the-sky deathhawk. Even Arwen’s black hair was shaved on only one side, and more just teased to be big and pushed to the side. They wore pointed pike shoes, much like Arwen’s own, which people compared to cowboy boots (ugh) but were really just boots with a fierce point at the end.

This persons pikes had what looked like skull buckles, which set the tone of the rest of their look. Ripped fishnets, a shiny leather skirt, and a leather jacket- _was that a Siouxsie Sioux patch!?-_ studded with spikes adorned their person.

Arwen’s heart was thudding, and she didn’t know why. She’d practically never seen other alternative types in Mirkwood, from what she assumed was a lack of them.  Maybe she’d been wrong?

She sure hoped so.

Feeling nervous all of a sudden, she quickly realized she’d been gaping at them. Regardless that they couldn’t see her, it was rude to stare (Arwen understood the dislike of being stared at all too well). Quickly averting her eyes, she strained hear ears to hear any snippets of conversation. A laugh reached her, a clear sound, like birdsong piercing the silence in the morning. For reasons unknown, it warmed her to the very bones. Another laugh broke through the quiet lull of the café, this one deeper but no less memorable and pleasing to hear than the first. Probably at some witty thing Bilbo had said, he was quite good at eliciting laughs and good humor from others.

Arwen vaguely noted the song playing in the background, some soft spoken Billie Holiday song that she knew Bilbo would have put on. It was a café after all, Gandalf couldn’t possibly have a problem with _jazz_.

_“Walk my way, and a thousand violins begin to play…”_

Shaking her head to focus, she had the sudden urge to check a mirror and make sure she didn’t look like a mess. Almost scoffing at herself, Arwen scowled out the window. There was no reason to get so worked up over two complete strangers, who probably wouldn’t even notice her presence anyway.

Arwen’s lack of friends in this new town had not gone unnoticed to her, or even her brothers (who called her frequently despite her assurances that she was doing just _fine_ ). Her father also called her quite regularly, even driving up from Rivendell recently to visit her. It didn’t help that the residents of her new town usually came off as snooty, treating new comers or those not from there as nuisances and to be treated with suspicion.

Her appearance had not helped that either. Many times in her life she’d considered just giving up and going back to the more conservative and “acceptable” self that she’d presented to the world (in more ways than just appearance). Just so people would stop staring and commenting and harassing her. But every time she’d considered it she immediate pushed those thoughts to the side. If she couldn’t be herself, who could she possibly be?

Arwen was so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed the two strangers go to leave, until she caught flashes of movement at the corner of her eye. Turning ever so slightly, she got a full view of them that she hadn’t before.

And her stomach promptly dropped through the floor.

 


	2. Just Like Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen, Tauriel, and Éowyn are all too gay to function.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel uses they/them pronouns, and upon first observing each other Arwen, Tauriel, and Éowyn all refer to each other as they/them in their minds cause that's just how they do. The only case in which they use binary or other pronouns is if they already know that person's pronouns due to being told by that person, or hearing them being (correctly) referred to by others who know them.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of her at the sight of them.

The one with long red hair exuded elegance with every movement, their clear green eyes looking out from under dark lashes that were set evenly apart beneath arched brows. High and wide cheekbones smattered with freckles gleamed with some shimmery green powder, their almond-shaped eyes smudged with dark liner. They had a broad button nose that went well with their delicate features, over fuller lips that looked as if they’d curl easily into a smile. The dark ink of their tattoos contrasted nicely to the russet color of their skin, the designs looking to be rune-like.  They seemed to be even taller than Arwen’s height of 5’ll, and it was if they’d walked straight out of some alternative version of Vogue.

Was that _bone_ jewelry adorning their neck!? Arwen’s face would have split into a grin then and there at the sight of it, if she hadn’t been so dumbstruck.

The stranger with the blonde deathhawk had a full face and neck of white foundation, closer set and small blue-gray eyes lined fiercely with black shadow. Perfect black brows were drawn straight and high above their eyes, leading into a straight and long nose that turned up cutely at the end. Their thin lips were lined and filled in with slate gray lipstick, Arwen noted with appreciation of the color scheme. Their angular cheekbones were defined with harsh black shadow, as most deathrockers were wont to do. Their makeup was very similar to how Arwen did her own, white foundation and all. The stranger was much shorter than the red head, but that wasn’t strange considering the fiery-haired strangers height.

A tattered but tight fitting top revealed the strangers strong figure, their fishnets stretched over powerfully built legs. Arwen had never been very athletic, but she’d always been an admirer of strength. Even the way the stranger held themselves, back straight and shoulders back exuded a surety that Arwen was never sure she herself ever had.

All of this had Arwen practically staring like a fool, but she couldn’t really blame herself. The strangers were stunning, and by far the most interesting people she’d seen in this town (besides Bilbo of course). But again, it was rude to stare, so Arwen averted her gaze quickly before either of them noticed.

Staring intensely at her coffee for the second time, she heard the chime of the door as they made their exit. Letting out a sigh, a sigh of what she didn’t know, she almost missed it when the strangers passed the glass front of the café outside. Glancing up, she nearly dropped her coffee when the stranger with the red hair smiled right at her and tentatively waved before making their way down the street.

If anyone had asked, Arwen would have _insisted_ that she hadn’t been blushing.

\-----

Éowyn had been minding her own business (aka sleeping) when her ringtone, which was Siouxsie’s Cities in Dust instrumental ( _of course,_ her brother Éomer had stated upon first hearing it), had pierced the silence of the lazy morning.

Groaning, she’d gotten up from the comfiest of beds and made her way over to where her phone was supposedly located. After fumbling around for a second or two, she’s found the offensively loud thing and picked it up. Upon seeing the caller ID she rolled her eyes, picking up all the same.

 “Yes Tauriel, what do you want?”

A resonant laugh sounded on the other end, clear and bright. Éowyn relaxed immediately at the sound, as she always did.

“My dear Éowyn, as cheerful as always! You never were a morning person. You didn’t just wake up, did you?”

The blonde looked around guiltily, before remembering they couldn’t see her. All she could really come up with through the haze of sleepiness was an “Um, no?”

She could almost hear the red heads eye roll, but she knew it wasn’t serious. Tauriel had grown to accept that Éowyn’s one and only true love would always be sleep. And Siouxsie Sioux, but that’s beside the point.

“What time is it anyway?” Éowyn grumbled, not really wanting to know the answer. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she made her way out of her room and over to the apartment’s tiny kitchen to make some coffee. Putting her phone on speaker, she glanced at the time.

“Hey Tauriel?”

“Yes Éowyn?” Her dear friend responded brightly.

Suppressing a groan, Éowyn took a deep breath. “What have I said about waking me up before nine in the morning?”

The red head’s tone did not change even a little bit, guilt nowhere to be found. In a poor imitation of Éowyn’s, Tauriel replied with “If you wake me up before nine one more time I will make sure you won’t find any of your signed Wardruna CD’s for the next five hundred years, blah blah grumble grumble, I’m a grump.”

“I am _not_ a grump!” Éowyn retorted indignantly as she finished making coffee, waiting for the pot to fill. “You yourself said that I’ve never been a morning person.”

“Okay, okay I’m sorry! But not really. Anyways it’s a beautiful day outside, albeit a bit overcast, and if you’re not working I thought we could go walk around and unintentionally scare Mirkwood’s residents. Maybe go bother Legolas at The Greenwood?”

Éowyn couldn’t help but grin at this, knowing how much Tauriel enjoyed _intentionally_ unnerving the town’s population. She couldn’t help but share in this enjoyment.

“Hmmm, I guess I could stay awake for that. If we’re gonna visit Legolas though it better be quick, I can only stand so much of his lovestruck pining for you.”

“For the last time, Legolas is _not_ in love with me! We’ve known each other since we were like, five. He’s practically my brother.” Tauriel retorted in a huff.

Deciding to let it rest (for now), no matter how oblivious Tauriel could be at times, she poured herself a large cup of coffee from the now full pot. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say. What time do you wanna head out?”

Tauriel hummed, thinking. “How about in an hour? This is a small town, I can walk over there in a matter of minutes. But I know how long it takes you to get ready.” They chuckled at the end, Éowyn’s meticulous makeup and hair that she did daily always a point of humor for the red head.

Ignoring the jab (only meant in jest) she sipped her coffee, only after adding her abundant amount of cream and sugar. Sighing dramatically, she gave in. “Well, if you insist.”

In reality, Éowyn had never been able to say no to Tauriel. Shaking that unbidden thought away, she couldn’t help but smile as Tauriel crowed triumphantly. Granted, that was their usual response every time they managed to pull Éowyn from her apartment and out into the world.

“It’s settled then. See you soon! Don’t fall back asleep.” Before Éowyn could respond, Tauriel had hung up.

“At least I don’t get up at an ungodly hour, like normal people.” Éowyn grumbled to herself, finishing off her coffee. Time to shower and make herself look presentable. Bat print pajamas, undone hair, and a face free of makeup would not do.

\-----

After Tauriel had hung up, they smiled to themselves. Despite Éowyn’s grumbling, Tauriel knew she secretly appreciated her friend’s coaxing her back out into the world. Éowyn had always been a bit reclusive, but the year had not been kind to her, and the effects of that were showing.

Frowning slightly, they fiddled with a long red braid, green eyes downcast. It seemed as if Éowyn withdrew even more with every passing day. It had been a miracle they’d been able to coax her out today, what with how much Éowyn worked and when she wasn’t…she would make up some excuse and stay at home.

They knew Éowyn was trying, they really did. But one’s mind was not always a friendly place to be, and grief mixed with chemical imbalances just worsened the matter.

Sighing, the red head already being ready for the day an hour ago, made their way the apartment’s cozy living room. The weather had been wishy washy lately, going from cold to warm very quickly (as weather in this area tended to do), so all of Tauriel’s potted plants were sitting crowdedly on the sitting area by the big window at the front of the apartment. It was a pleasant little forest Tauriel had decided, and much more lively than the wooded areas in Mirkwood.

Tauriel began to tentatively smile again to themselves, humming a tune. Green, growing things never failed to lift their spirits, and the crowd of flowers among herbs produced a pleasant smell around the living room.

Making themselves comfy in an armchair, the red head put on some Wardruna, a group dedicated to putting Norse cultural traditions into music. Most of Tauriel’s music taste consisted of folk, pagan, and Viking/fantasy metal. Too bad they didn’t know many people who liked the same music, even Éowyn leaned more towards 80’s post-punk. Well, except for Legolas, but she had introduced this brand of music to him in the first place.

Tauriel had lived alone for years, and preferred it as well. They had always liked the quiet, not so much a person of solitude, but wanting a living space uninterrupted by other presence’s.

The heavy scent of jasmine hung in the air from the incense that had been burning since earlier that morning, and Tauriel continued to hum pleasantly. Deciding to make some tea, they got up from their cozy spot and trotted over to the kitchen, long legs making the journey much shorter. Their movements were rhythmic, drinking tea being one of their most popular pastimes.

“Hmmm, now which one to pick today? Earl grey or rose black tea? I could pop coconut milk in both….it’s early spring, so rose would be nice….rose it is!”

Fetching the tin from above the stove, they tapped some out into one of their many loose tea draw string cloth bags. Popping it into a large mug, they waited as the water heated, mind wandering back to their grumbly blonde friend.

Their heart stuttered for a moment at the thought of the Éowyn, her steely eyes and pale as the dawn hair. _If only…_

Tauriel was startled out of their thoughts at the high pitched tone of the kettle, quickly moving it from the hot stove plate, deftly pouring it into the mug.

_Enough of that nonsense Tauriel. Drink your damn tea and suck it up._

Sighing, they did just that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel is black and non-binary in my fics, as well as being queer. I am white so I obviously do not know what it is like to be black in this society on top of the intersecting identities of queer and non-binary, so I am doing my research. It is no one's obligation to educate me, however if there is something I missed and I write something racist/problematic, even without knowing it, please call me out on it and I will rectify it. I love all these characters very much, and want to portray them as accurately as possible!


	3. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éowyn's pov of the cafe meeting and more gay shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyye third chapter finally. I saw that a lot of people at least clicked on my story and that makes me happyyyyyyyyy

A knock on the second floor’s apartment signaled Tauriel’s arrival and Éowyn perked up, having just finished her makeup and hair. Her hair, in her standard deathhawk that she’d perfected over the years, defied gravity. Éowyn’s outfit that day was consistent to her usual style, fishnets with holes and her favorite pair of pikes. She’d adorned her favorite leather jacket, spikes with a Siouxsie Sioux patch and all.

She quickly made her way towards the door, grinning in a way that was reserved only for Tauriel (though she’d never tell Tauriel that).

The red head was beautiful as always, in an unearthly way. They were adorned in their usual faire, layers of different fabrics that resembled the many colors of the forest. They’d even adorned some of the bone jewelry they’d made over the years and even sold online. Sparkly green highlighter dusted their cheekbones, black-green lipstick filling their lips.

Éowyn had always loved the rune and vine tattoos, adorning the shaved sides of their head, the dark tattoos contrasting nicely with the reddish russet color of their skin.

Upon seeing Éowyn, Tauriel’s face split into a grin that never failed to make Éowyn’s heart skip a beat (or two). 

“The creature of the night has emerged! Have you had your coffee?” Tauriel’s voice was like the clear ringing of bells, and Éowyn had to suppress a sigh at the sound of it.

Clearing her throat to ward off unwanted thoughts, Éowyn rolled her eyes. “Yes yes, I’ve had my coffee. I am now suitable for conversation. Have you had your tea?”

It was Tauriel’s turn to look affronted, always being one to choose caffeinated tea over coffee. “Of course I have! I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”

Chuckling, Éowyn passed Tauriel into the hall, turning to lock the door as she went.

Tauriel’s face was back to beaming, mirth dancing in their bright green eyes. “Well now that I’ve succeeded in bringing you forth from your cave, why don’t we head to The Green Door for some more caffeine? That Bilbo is always fun to talk to, and handsome too!” Tauriel sighed wistfully, flipping some of their braids over her shoulder. “He’s no longer single you know, he’s dating that Thorin bloke from The Lonely Mountain tattoo parlor who did my head tattoos!”

Ignoring the friendly-meant jab, and the way her heart dropped just a little at Tauriel’s interest, Éowyn made her way down the hallway to the stairs. “You had a million chances to ask him out! Everyone, no matter what gender identity, falls at your feet effortlessly you know!” She tried to keep her tone light and teasing, ignoring the dull ache that spread in her chest.

Tauriel could have anyone wrapped around their little finger at any time, and they often did-without even realizing it.

The red haired beauty only huffed at this as they made their way down the stairwell. “I always knew he preferred men, and the way Thorin and him have been pining after each other for _years_ was always painfully obvious! It was ridiculous honestly. From what Bilbo told me, he always thought Thorin disliked him immensely, until one day the man had brought him a bouquet-you know how Bilbo loves flowers-and asked him out! He was also apparently stumbling over all his words and blushing redder than a tomato. Ridiculous I tell you! But also adorable.”

Éowyn couldn’t help but laugh at this, remembering the days of Bilbo’s pining and lovelorn sighs. She couldn’t help but relate, but she’d never told Bilbo, or anyone, that.

Finally they were out in the street, and while it was overcast the weather was unusually warm. That never bode well for Éowyn’s makeup, but she at least dressed mostly light. Tauriel had on layers, but they were always made of light and airy fabric.

Squinting up at the cloudy but bright sky, Tauriel smiled. “Just like I said, a beautiful day!” They began to walk gracefully down the street, whistling a tune Éowyn didn’t recognize. Smiling fondly Éowyn followed, her own gait not as elegant, more deliberate.

Soon enough they were at The Green Door, it’s glass front clean and pristine as always. The small café was on the busiest street in the downtown area, the street home to many popular restaurants and bars. The parts of the door that weren’t glass were a lustrous green (hence the name), the brass door handle worn but gleaming. From what Éowyn could see it was slow today, but a resident all dressed in black sat with their back to them in the window booth. The blonde approved of the style choice for sure.

Pushing open the inviting door, Éowyn noted the familiar chime as they entered. Round tables lined the right side until they stopped a ways from the bar, the tables on the left on a slight rise. The coloring of the place was deep mahogany with warmer colors, giving The Green Door a homey feeling.

Both approaching the bar, they could see a familiar sandy head of hair behind the espresso machine. Bilbo smiled warmly at them as they came up, his eyes crinkling cutely at the corners. To Éowyn’s amusement he always had to squint up at Tauriel, who towered above them both.

“Ah, what a sight for sore eyes! It’s good to see you two out and about. How goes it?” He exclaimed brightly, his deft hands wiping down a mug.

Tauriel grinned back at him, a little _too_ warmly if you asked Éowyn. But then again, that was Tauriel. They had a stunning smile for any who deserved one. Sometimes their smile was so beautiful that Éowyn had to resist the urge to turn away, her heart aching a bit.

“It’s good to see you as well! And it’s going, I managed to drag this one out of her cave- a good day so far!”

Bilbo’s laugh was light and hearty, and one couldn’t help but laugh with him. Even Éowyn, who felt only the smallest bit stung at the comment, couldn’t help but laugh along with Tauriel, their laughs loud in the quiet café.

“Well I for one am glad for it, it’s been a while since I last saw our elusive Éowyn. It’s always a delight to see you, my dear!” Bilbo’s warm smile never faltered, and his words always radiated a sincerity hardly found in others. Éowyn could see why someone, in this case Thorin, had been reduced to a blushing mess in his presence.

The man then paused in his cleaning, blinking. “And how rude of me, what would you two like to drink and or eat? It’s on the house today. Also-to go or for here?” He winked then, and Éowyn could hear the quietest of sighs from Tauriel.

 _Blasted handsome tattooed men,_ Éowyn grumbled in her head.

Tauriel was the first to reply, voice warm. “That’s very kind of you Bilbo. I’d love a spot of earl grey with a blueberry scone if you have it! And to go please, we’re off to visit Legolas after this! He’s probably bored out of his mind.”

Nodding, Bilbo then turned to Éowyn. “And what about you, my dear? The usual, or do we want to change it up a bit today?”

Éowyn, smiling softly, shifted on her feet. The kindness of others had the tendency to make her slightly uncomfortable, her old habits of questioning intentions flaring up every once in a while. But this was Bilbo, who when it came to intentions, was as transparent as glass. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and wouldn’t be capable of maliciousness if he tried.

“Just the usual today, Bilbo. And thank you.” Usual for Éowyn meant coffee mixed in with lots of sugar and cream, along with a lemon square. Those were her absolute favorite, reminding her of when her parents used to bring her to her favorite bakery known for their famous lemon squares. The Green Door’s were almost, _almost_ as good.

But then again, what can beat the nostalgia of fond memories?

Nodding again warmly, Bilbo began their orders all while chatting amicably. Tauriel usually took over the conversation, being completely comfortable in doing so, knowing how Éowyn didn’t really like to be the center of conversation. Éowyn was forever grateful for Tauriel’s unspoken knowledge of this, the red head being almost eerily perceptive at times. But Éowyn also felt a twinge of guilt at this, never wanting to make Tauriel feel as if she had to “take care” of Éowyn. They were good friends, and friends cared for each other, but she never wanted Tauriel to feel like a parent or caretaker in any way, shape, or form.

As the coffee and food were being grabbed and prepared, Éowyn’s gaze wandered to some of the paintings up on the wall. They changed every few weeks, featuring local artists. As she was perusing them, she caught sight of the resident at the window out of the corner of her eye. Éowyn had always enjoyed people watching, attempting stealthily to always watch the people around her with interest.

Turning carefully so as not to catch the stranger’s attention, Éowyn casually glanced over. The stranger was staring into their coffee cup intensely, as if contemplating something very important. But that’s not what had Éowyn’s heart doing a complete flip flop.

The stranger was striking, skin as pale as the moon with foundation on their angular face. From what Éowyn could see from the side, their cheekbones (contoured with black shadow like Éowyn’s) were prominent and sculpted, their profile elegant. A delicate nose that turned up cutely at the end led into pouty lips covered in blood-red lipstick. A long wing of eyeliner went up past the tip of their neat black brow, their perfectly glued lashes almost as long as a pinky finger. Their jet black hair was piled and teased up on their head, pushed over to reveal a shaven side also covered in white foundation. Silver bangle jewelry adorned their neck, and black stiletto nails tapped the side of their mug.

Éowyn was so engrossed that she hadn’t noticed Tauriel turn to follow her gaze, hadn’t noticed the way Tauriel briefly frowned at Éowyn’s interest-hadn’t noticed the way Tauriel’s eyes lit up when landing on the stranger.

It took Bilbo clearing of his throat to break them out of their reverie, amusement dancing in his hazel eyes when they turned back, both blinking.

“Your refreshments are ready my friends, if you’re done gawking?” His voice was alight with mirth, tone teasing.

Clearing her throat, Éowyn quickly made to pick up her treats. “I wasn’t _gawking_ ,” She grumbled at him (to which he looked very dubious), quickly glancing at Tauriel. Their eyes had lingered briefly on the stranger, before snapping speedily back to the barista.

Éowyn frowned briefly, swiftly stomping down her myriad of feelings this. _Had Tauriel been staring too?_

Quickly schooling their face back into a carefree grin, Tauriel picked up their treats with one hand. “Thank you Bilbo! You never fail to brighten our day, _and_ feed us on top of that. Have an exciting day, and say hello to Thorin for us!”

The barista went bright red at the mention of Thorin, mumbling something unintelligible in return, eventually settling for a wave as they turned to make their way out. Upon turning, though carefully leveling her eyes at the door, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that the stranger was looking at them with bright red eyes (if only slightly).

This sent Éowyn’s heart into another tumultuous cycle of flip flops, though she could not imagine why.

Schooling her features into what hopefully resembled something nonchalant, Éowyn made her way towards the door with Tauriel strolling leisurely by her side. Upon exiting she paused, taking a long sip of her coffee, trying to calm the uninvited butterflies alighting in her stomach.

Shaking her head, she noticed Tauriel had stopped too, eyeing her curiously. “You know, I think I can count on my hands the number of times you’ve actually looked _flustered_.” Their tone was casual and teasing, but there was a strangely breathless quality to it.

Clearing her throat, Éowyn took another sip of coffee and turned to walk down the street. “Flustered? I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” she huffed, beginning to walk. Tauriel stepped into place beside her, and as they passed the window front of the café, Éowyn caught Tauriel actually _wav_ ing at the stranger.

Quickening her steps, she turned to her friend, whispering even though they were well out of earshot of anyone. “Did you just wave at a complete stranger? Or am I hallucinating?” To her surprise, the red in Tauriel’s cheeks had deepened, the color also prominent in the tips of their ears.

“I was just being friendly, is all! They were all alone, and I saw them peeking at us. It’s always nice seeing other interesting people out and about, especially in this town!” They sounded indignant, their words coming out in a bit of a rush.

Éowyn perked a thin brow, amused. “Oh so _I’m_ the flustered one? You do know you’re blushing right?”

“It’s the sun!”

“Tauriel it’s overcast, and the sun isn’t even out.”

‘It’s _warm_!”

“Not _that_ warm.”

“You’re relentless, you know that?” Tauriel exclaimed with an exasperated chuckle, visibly still flustered. “Anyways, you can’t distract me from the fact that you were _definitely_ staring. Full on ogling I tell you.”

Groaning, Éowyn cursed Tauriel’s perception skills, sharp as always. Or was Éowyn just that obvious? 

“As you said, it’s always nice seeing other interesting people out and about, especially in this town,” she shot back, deciding not to dwell on the fluttering still present in the pit of her stomach. She definitely did not dwell on the simultaneous sinking feeling that arose at Tauriel’s badly hidden interest in the stranger.

Tauriel, as usual, didn’t take the hint. Or just wouldn’t, who knows. “Ha! Knowing you, you’re probably red under all that foundation. When you blush, now that’s a sight for the ages.”

“Hence why I wear it.”

“I thought you wore it to look like the dead.”

“Both, both are true.”

They continued to walk, the topic of the stranger seemingly dropped for the moment. The comfortable silence that usually happens between good friends would have fallen, if this one hadn’t been ever so slightly charged with hidden emotions and unspoken questions. The only sounds present were of the town around them. Cars rolled lazily by, the sounds of laughter and voices pouring into the street from open shop doors.  

“How…how can you tell Legolas is “in love” with me, as you say? I’m not so good at…discerning these things..”

 _No kidding,_ Éowyn almost retorted, but she held her tongue. Tauriel was perceptive in everything, except when it came to feelings of an intimate nature from others. The question had been so out of the blue and unlike Tauriel that she’d been close to gawking at her friend, but Tauriel sounded so hesitant and almost…vulnerable, that Éowyn reigned it in.

“Well, first of all, he stares at you constantly whenever you’re not looking. He listens to all the music recommendations you give him, and even makes you CD’s of your favorites. And when you smile at him…his whole face lights up like Christmas.” Éowyn’s voice had faltered on the last part, painfully aware of the parallels. She hoped she’d kept the bitterness out of her voice, not sure if she’d succeeded.

Catching herself, she continued “Oh, and you don’t even have to remind me of his endless _sighing_ when you’re around. It’s getting a bit ridiculous honestly.”

_I don’t sigh like that…do I?_

Turning to Tauriel, Éowyn was surprised to find her friend looking pensive, biting her lip. “Are…are you sure?”

Éowyn’s gaze softened, her footsteps coming to a gradual halt, and Tauriel stopped next to her. Reaching for Tauriel, she placed a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Yes Tauriel, I’m sure. I would never make something like this up. That would be too cruel, even for me,” she joked, but it came out weak.

Tauriel sighed, fiddling with the end of a long red braid. “I…we practically grew up together. We’ve always been close, and he always supported me through hard times. And I didn’t even realize.” She paused, as if struggling for words.

“I hope he values my friendship over his feelings, because I don’t feel the same way towards him. I’d hate to not be close to him anymore.”

Their words, while about Legolas, sent something sharp through Éowyn’s chest. A harsh reminder of what could never, ever be. Éowyn did not doubt that this statement would apply to herself, seeing as Tauriel had never gave any indication of feeling more than friendship towards her.

 _And why should you want more than friendship?_ A slippery little voice whispered in her mind. _How selfish can you be? What else will you ruin with your influence?_

 Keeping her face free of reflecting those thoughts, she smiled encouragingly back at Tauriel. “I’m sure he will, if he’s worth his salt. And if he doesn’t, I’ll knock his ass back into a book shelf. Don’t think I won’t,” she finished at Tauriel’s incredulous stare. The red head’s pensive and pinched expression slowly spread into a smile, and they threw their head back into a laugh. Something warm spread through her chest then, softening the sharp pain that had been there before.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, topics like the stranger and Legolas temporarily forgotten, and continued on their way.

_If I can make you laugh, it’s not so bad, is it?_


End file.
